I marched on the double quick to a Western Union Telegraph office, and scribbled a lengthy telegram for funds. I was told that it would have to be "O. K.'d" by the manager before it could be sent Collect--so I waited three hours or thereabouts before that personage finally materialized. The long wait didn't tend to calm my general feelings of irascibility. I handed the form to him, and after half scrutinizing it, he told me that he couldn't pass on it and have the risk of its not making good at the other end, but if I would cut out about three-fourths of it, he would. Now, I knew that every single little word was absolutely necessary, and tried to reason with him, but to no end. Then all the bad, irascible, ruffled feelings that had accumulated within me for the last couple of days surged forth, and I read the riot act to him as it had never been read before. I never thought I was capable of such a supply of invective. It did no good, of course, and ended in my being shown the door by the uniformed attendant. I went to the Postal Telegraph with almost the identical result, so broke, but not in spirit, I walked the streets till morning, and then sat in a saloon till business opened up and I could get my bearings. I went to the Post Office as soon as it opened, asked for my mail, but received a brief "Nothing." I went to an employment agency and asked for a job in a restaurant, having had nothing to appease my hunger for more than a day. Told him I'd make good when I got paid. He wouldn't do business on those grounds, but said he had received a 'phone call for a man to beat carpets just for the day, and that if I wanted that, he wouldn't charge me anything. I wanted it all right. I reasoned, "Well, within two weeks I'll be attending college, but Jack and I did it once when we were up against it, so it's good enough for me now and nobody need ever know."